Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Excalibur was inked into her skin. Inextricably connected to her forever. Edith couldn’t stop staring at the tattoo. She knew she shouldn’t touch it, but she couldn’t help tracing her fingers over the raised skin. She couldn’t believe that it was real.
Edith had always lived by a very clear philosophy when making decisions.
She didn’t move forward until she had considered every little possible thing that could go wrong.
That way, once something did happen, she would be ready for it.
If she thought through every outcome, then she would be safe from uncertainty.
But with this tattoo, she hadn’t spared a second thought over what might happen. She just thought, I want to do this, and so I will.
And it had turned out wonderfully. Nothing had pounced on her, taking advantage of her momentary lack of worry. Edith had done what she wanted to do, and she hadn’t been cosmically punished for it.
The tattoo was so beautiful, and so perfect for her. Thomasin had created this piece of art that was impossibly well suited for Edith. Something shimmered inside of her at the idea that Thomasin knew her so well, and after so little time.
She wondered what her grandmother would have thought of the tattoo.
There weren’t many societal conventions the woman hadn’t bucked, but a lady with a tattoo might have been pushing it too far.
Edith imagined she would have put on a show of being cross at first, but then she would have gotten a little gleam in her eye and asked to see it.
Once she saw Thomasin’s impeccable work, saw that it was Excalibur, the one passion they both cared about above all else, Edith thought her grandmother would have even asked for one herself.
Brushing an errant tear from her cheek, she rolled down the sleeve of her tunic.
It would never be fair that her grandmother wasn’t alive to see this.
With every step forward in the quest, Edith felt a pang of guilt.
There was a little tug of sadness that came with every moment of triumph.
She brushed it away as much as she could, not wanting to wallow in grief when she should be happy with how well things were going.
And the quest was going well, better than she had ever dreamed it would.
That was in large part due to Thomasin, whose company only amplified every new and exciting thing Edith experienced.
The simple act of spending time with Thomasin, of being near her, set fire to all the things that Edith had imagined for her life, in the best possible way.
She didn’t want to be sad, but she was. In the quiet moments when Thomasin wasn’t around to make her smile or make her wobbly with giddy nerves.
When her dreams of Camelot and King Arthur weren’t coming true right before her eyes.
When she slowed down enough, and her traitorous, stupid brain thought, I can’t wait to tell Grandmother about all this, only for the crushing disappointment to fall seconds later when she remembered she would never speak to her grandmother again.
In those moments, she was unbearably sad.
The only thing for it was to keep moving.
Luckily, they had a new destination: Dinas Emrys, an old castle fort that stood mostly in ruins.
They’d have to spend at least three days on the road, making their way up north to Wales.
The journey would be prolonged by the fact that they had to avoid the main roads.
Only once darkness had fallen enough to obscure their faces—well, Thomasin’s face—from onlookers did they venture out.
Thomasin was tense as they snuck away from Winchester, the soft din of tavern music floating into the streets.
She wondered if Worthing had gotten under her skin, because she had never shown so much concern about detection before.
Ever since they’d left London, Thomasin had approached the charges against her with a devil-may-care attitude, like nothing the police could ever do would touch her.
As they rode their horses into the forest, leaving Winchester behind, Thomasin’s posture finally relaxed, and she slowed their pace to a comfortable trot.
Once they were safely ensconced in the shadows of a lush, green forest, Thomasin directed her horse to walk next to Edith’s.
When she smiled at her, Thomasin smiled back, any vestiges of unease seemingly gone.
Edith knew Thomasin well enough to know that whatever was bothering Thomasin had likely just been shoved away rather than dealt with.
But if it was a conversation with Worthing that had irked her, then it was more than likely she was worried about something to do with the syndicate.
Edith didn’t want to pry. She loved learning about Thomasin’s past, but she couldn’t bring herself to think about how Thomasin had a whole criminal enterprise to go back to.
One that was probably falling apart because of Edith.
She didn’t like thinking about their lives outside of the quest, because it meant thinking about her life without Thomasin.
It was far too soon to be considering such things, but her mind followed that path of its own accord.
What kind of future they could have together, whether Thomasin wanted the same things Edith wanted.
She liked Thomasin so much it didn’t feel as though the word like was enough. It was also too soon for that other word, but Edith felt her heart drifting in that direction, no matter how much she tried to slow herself down.
Because if she was being honest, she didn’t want to slow down. She wanted to feel everything, and she wanted to feel it with Thomasin.
The question was if Thomasin could ever feel the same way about her.
She was careful not to assume anything about Thomasin’s feelings based on the physical affection she showed Edith.
Thomasin was casual about those sorts of things, and hoping that all the kissing meant the same thing to Thomasin as it did to Edith felt dangerous.
But over the course of the next few days there was so much kissing that it became hard not to read into it.
In fact, all Thomasin wanted to do was kiss her.
And hold her hand or sit so close together that the sides of their bodies were flush from ankle to shoulder.
Edith didn’t quite know how to cope with so much attention, but she certainly wasn’t annoyed by it.
Unsure as to how she was supposed to behave in romantic situations, she just surrendered to the current and let Thomasin pull her under.
At first, she had been nervous for Jay and Worthing to find out about this new element of her and Thomasin’s relationship, but when Jay saw them kiss from across the fire one night, he just smiled fondly at Edith before excusing himself.
As for Worthing, his face screwed up in anger and turned bright red.
When he opened his mouth though, Thomasin just glared, her fingers toying with her dagger. He excused himself too.
In their little bubble, the trip from Winchester to Dinas Emrys passed shockingly quickly.
Before she knew it, the crumbling stone ruins were looming ahead of them.
The remains of the fort sat atop a forested, rocky hill.
It had taken them the last couple hours to hike their way through the tangle of trees, stomping through brambles for most of the way.
Edith’s heartbeat quickened, and her feet followed suit.
This was one of those legendary sites she had always fantasized about visiting.
She and her grandmother had theorized that this could be a potential location for a clue, but there had been no way of knowing for sure. Until now.
Dinas Emrys was the setting of one of the very first written records of Merlin.
It was at this castle that he had revealed his prophetic and magical powers.
This was the hallowed ground on which he’d received his most famous prophecy.
With every crunch of dry grass beneath her feet, Edith felt the weight of it in her bones.
She was walking the same earth Merlin had walked.
She felt sure in that moment that there was a thread of whatever one wanted to call it, magic, fate, luck, that was pulling her along this quest.
Maybe that same thread had pulled her to Thomasin too.
The thought rose unbidden in the back of her mind, and her eyes instinctively found Thomasin, who was walking a few paces ahead.
As if she could sense her attention, Thomasin looked over her shoulder, her long curls whipping in the wind.
In the last couple weeks, autumn had arrived in full, with brisk air and gloomy skies.
The weather suited the ruins. It would have been strange to see the ancient stone structure under the full glow of the sun. It looked like it might crumble under the light. A cushion of mist clung to the tall grass, and to the walls.
Edith stumbled over excitedly to the closest wall and laid her hands on the cold stone.
She breathed in deeply. Palms vibrating, she imagined she could feel the energy left behind in the walls.
Magic like Merlin’s didn’t just disappear with time.
It settled, weaved itself into the fabric of a place.
Or at least that’s what her grandmother had told her.
Cloaked now in the mists of Dinas Emrys, Edith believed her wholeheartedly.
Her eyes were closed, and so she felt, rather than saw, Thomasin approach.
Strong arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her back into the solid, lean body behind her.
The sharp point of Thomasin’s chin rested on the crown of Edith’s head.
She relaxed into the embrace, but soon her eagerness to explore overpowered her desire to remain in Thomasin’s arms. Gently extricating herself, she took Thomasin’s hand in hers and led them across the hilltop.